But the Maibos held to their faith, that violence begets violence; whereas a spirit of peace and love will spread and possess all those who encounter it. They called it the “contagion of joy.”
And in this delightful faith they were proved entirely wrong. For these peace-loving creatures were invaded and exterminated like bugs. All of them died; all. Not one Maibos remained, except for the handful who dwelled at the embassy of the Olaran Home Court.
And even their planet was destroyed; shattered and exploded into many parts, just as had happened to the planet of the FanTangs. And to salt and sting the wound, un-matter bombs were flown into their sun, sending it into a flaring frenzy; it was now poised to turn nova.
We knew all this because, in the dying moments of their civilisation, the Maibos had found a way to transmit space camera images of their demise through rift space, on what they knew were Olaran frequencies.
This is what Albinia had seen through her Explorer link. The end of a world; the planet of the Maibos sundering; billions of gracious, honourable creatures perishing even faster than their own ideals. It was an image of horror that had seared her mind.
It was a shocking holocaust and all Olarans mourned for the lost Maibos.
But the good news was that this time there had been a sighting. An Olaran scout vessel had viewed the foul slayer of the Maibos as it had fled the planetary system.
And according to this reliable report, there was no fleet, no alien armada; just a single vessel, with black sails.
“It’s the Magrhediera,” Morval speculated. “They escaped from their planet and they are taking revenge on us.”
“The ship doesn’t conform to any of the Magrhediera designs,” I pointed out. “And it’s not their style; they burn biospheres, then colonise; these creatures are killing actual planets.”
“The Stuxi?” asked Galamea.
“It could be a rogue Stuxi ship,” I conceded. “Their planet is Quarantined; but it just takes one vessel to keep a war going.”
“The Stuxi are ruthless bastards,” Galamea said. We all knew her past history with these creatures; we preserved a tactful silence.
“The Navy will find them,” said Phylas. “And that will be that.” He was clearly comforted at this vision of the remorseless power of the Olaran military.
“There may be other vessels,” I worried.
“One ship,” said Morval. “It’s just one ship. Against the entire Olaran Fleet. It’s just a matter of time before one of our vessels finds it, and crushes it.”
We were nowhere near the Maibos system, and there was nothing we could do to help. And so we continued with our exploration of the farthest stretches of the furthest galaxies.
And every night Albinia came to my bed and we had sex. And afterwards we talked; and sometimes, she would let me be Explorer again. And we became close. We even became, dare I say it, “friends.”
In the days however I continued to worship her, as my goddess and inspiration, as she, in her dreamy trance state, steered and flew and lived through our ship.
And, as it happens, I was at this time also spending a good deal more time with Phylas. He was determined to be a Trader, so I tried to teach him some tricks.
He was however, I concluded regretfully, after several role play exercises, too easygoing and nice to haggle; and he had no flair for deception and manipulative body language. However, I persevered; he was a dumb and sweet kid and the universe needed more of those, in my view.
And also, around about this time-I remember it well!-Morval and I discovered and explored a fascinating planet, which we christened Gem, that was populated by microbes and rich in jewels. The diamonds were clearly visible in the rocks, there were rubies, there were mountains made of gold. We spent a month running sentience tests on the bacteria and viruses who comprised this planet’s only biosphere, before concluding that they were just stupid bugs and we had the right to claim this planet for Olara.
Galamea toasted our success with champagne; all the ship’s officers would get a small percentage of the profits from this planet in perpetuity. It was our pension plan.
But then, just a week after the champagne toasting, we saw it; the ship with black sails. Or rather, Explorer did.
I have a located a telling trace, said Explorer.
“Tell us more,” said Commander Galamea.
We were all in the Command Hub; Albinia’s eyes were wide open, and clearly she too was shocked at Explorer’s decision to speak to us all directly, rather than via her.
A vessel is travelling this sector via rift space; there are visuals.
An image appeared on our panoramic wall screen, of a black sailed vessel with a cylindrical hull.
“Is this-” I began to say.
This is the vessel that destroyed the FanTangs, said Explorer.
There was a sober silence.
“Send the coordinates to the Navy,” said Galamea.
“They may rift at any moment,” I pointed out. “We should tag them.”
“If we get too close they’ll fire on us,” Galamea pointed out.
“Do we care?”
Galamea smiled. “We do not. Explorer, pursue, and prepare for battle. We’re in for a father-fucker of a fight.”
Albinia was living in the rift; she could smell the tang of the shifting-sands as Explorer soared through the cracks of reality that connect one part of the universe with another.
And Albinia/Explorer could feel and smell and hear and touch the enemy ship as it tried to escape.
She sensed too that there was something strange about the ship, yet she could not at first find words to describe it.
Then, as Explorer later explained it to me, the words came to Albinia:
She could smell Death upon this ship.
These were creatures who to our certain knowledge had destroyed two entire planets and all who dwelled on them. These were creatures who could blow up suns. These were creatures who had massacred the citizens of an entire Olaran Trading Post and left them as corpses for the birds to pick at, except that all the birds had died and no creature was left to scavenge.
The enemy ship was Death, it wrought Death, it savoured Death; but, Albinia resolved, soon it too would die.
Explorer/Albinia flew through the final rift and there it was, the Death Ship, waiting for her, and for us.
“Do we know anything about these creatures?” I asked.
“We have no records of a ship of this kind,” said Phylas. “The materials of the hull are unfamiliar. The elements of which the materials are made are-unfamiliar.”
“How strange is that?” I asked.
“Fairly strange,” Phylas conceded. “Axial theory accepts three different classes of elements, the Real, the Unlikely, and the Never to be Dreamed Of. This ship is made of other stuff entirely.”
“It may be from a different universe,” said Morval.
I scoffed. “Not that old myth again. I don’t believe in other universes.”
“That’s because you know no transdimensional science,” sneered Morval.
“I don’t need to; that’s your job, to remember the dull stuff,” I mocked. Morval bridled at the insult.
The enemy ship had a cylindrical hull that was scratched, and covered in chaol, a space-dwelling parasitical life-form. High black sails loomed above the hull; their purpose, Phylas explained, was probably to gather dark matter and use it as an energy source.
Explorer drifted closer, invisible in all wavelengths and heavily shielded.
The enemy ship was still. It seemed to drift through the darkness of space like an idle thought in a blank mind.
“How many crew?” I asked.
“Our sensors can’t penetrate the hull,” said Phylas.
“On the count of three, fire missiles, flit anti-matter bombs, release energy beams. Then when we’ve done that, switch on the Quarantine cage; we’ll trap the parent-fuckers inside a box full of detonating explosives.” I said.
“Agreed,” said Galamea.
“One-” I began.